22:42
by Queen of Pascalities
Summary: This story starts in a gas station and ends in a police car.


_**A/N: **__This is not my idea. It's based off of a story on _Not Always Right_, I thought it was good, I changed a few things, but the general idea's there._

. . .

**22:42, May 19****th****, 2011**

_by Queen of Pascalities_

. . .

This story starts in a gas station.

Situated barely two miles away from my parents' house, Main Street _and_ the police station, surrounded by residential zones in every direction and directly in front of a high school, this is probably the safest gas station to work at in this entire town. Self-service is obligatory and clients need to pay before their pump is unlocked and ready to be used.

I needed to accumulate money to buy school supplies, because a Visual Arts diploma does not come cheap, so I applied and got hired. Simple as that. Clients were not really polite but never rude either, and I just generally didn't expand my social circle while working, instead spending five to eight hours a day merely saying the standard "Hello. Is that all? Right, your total is... Here's your change, have a nice day" and nothing else.

This gas station held the record for fewest hold ups with an astounding zero and there never was any real trouble. Recently, though, some kids from the school came in groups of five or more and stole candy, so for the past few days, police officers relayed each other to help supervise the store. Most of them were undercover during the day, but the cops in later shifts usually transferred from patrol to surveillance and didn't bother to get changed before getting here.

Tonight is no different. I'm sitting on a stool behind my counter, bored out of my mind and counting the number of squares that constitute the ceiling, while a police officer – one of the younger, good-looking ones, who's nice enough to actually socialise with me when we share shifts – hovers in a corner at the back of the store, filling out his report. We're nearing closing time and yet, the hands of the clock seem to take very much pleasure from moving in slow-motion. Nothing has happened all day, as it's not a school day, and my hunky partner in misery seems just about as bored and tired as I am, even though he actually has something to do.

"Hey, Sasuke!" I call to him. His head snaps up and his eyes fall on me. He doesn't answer, but I know he's listening.

"Wanna play a game of "I Spy"?" His eyebrows furrow a little.

"No," he says dryly. Well, _someone_'s cranky tonight.

"Why not?"

"It's a kiddie game."

"So? I'm bored."

He sends me a glance that clearly means "Please don't make me embarrass myself in front of the surveillance cameras" but I pay it no attention.

"Okay, I spy with my little eye something that's... yellow."

"This is stupid."

"Aw, come on, please? Just for tonight."

"No. I'm on duty."

"So? If you were watching kids while on duty, you'd have to play with them."

"Yeah, but you... You're not a kid."

I'm not sure what was in the tone he used to say that, but it makes me feel uncomfortable, so I revert back to my game as if he hadn't said it.

"I spy with my little eye something yellow. Go on, find it. It's an easy one."

He sighs and point to the slushie ad sign hanging from the ceiling. I grunt because he got it way too easily and slump back on my stool, ready to restart my previous calculations.

"I spy with my little eye something pink." I jump at the sound of his voice, but I grin, pleased that he wants to keep playing. He grins back. He's adorable when he grins.

"Um..." I look around the store, trying to find something pink. "Swedish Berries?"

"Nope," he answers.

"Snowballs?"

"No."

"Bubblegum slushie?"

He shakes his head. I'm at a loss. We just got rid of the Easter stuff and there aren't many pink things left in the store.

"Can I get a clue?" I ask, sheepish. He raises an eyebrow at me.

"It's soft," he says.

"Soft?"

"Well, it looks soft. I presume it is."

"Soft. Like, marshmallow soft? Is it marshmallows?"

"No. It's also very obvious." What's wrong with me! I normally kick major ass at this game.

"Uh... The strawberry milk?"

"No."

"The sangria bottles?"

"No."

"The new fruit-flavoured beer?"

"No."

"Your boxers?"

"Hell no!"

"It's pink, soft-looking and obvious." I scratch my head, like old cartoon characters do when they're confused. Psh, as if that'd help me.

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Is it my hair?"

He grins.

"It was my _hair_? The pink, soft, obvious thing?"

He nods curtly.

"You... You're such a sap." I burst out laughing because, hell, it's hilarious. "It's seriously the most inventive cheesy trick a guy has ever pulled on me. Usually, they just go for the "Your hair looks really soft, can I touch it?" line, or even better, the "Care to show me if pink is your natural colour?" classic. Haha, you're a clever one."

"Your turn," he says without losing his grin.

"Alright." I'm still giggly. "I spy with my little eye something... blue." He snickers.

"Sakura, half of the things in this gas station are blue."

"So?"

"It's gonna take me all night to go through all of them."

"Not if you find it on the first guess. Plus, I wouldn't mind spending all night going through all the blue things in here." I can't help the suggestive tone of my voice, nor the flirty smirk stretching my lips. Nor the little butterflies fluttering in my stomach when his smirk tells me he understood what I implied.

He stays silent for a while, looking around the store. For a second, he seems to have an idea, then drops it and lets his eyes wander off to another blue thing that might have sparked my attention.

"Can you at least give me another clue, like what shade of blue I'm looking for?"

"Hm, no, that'd make it too easy. But I can tell you that I wish it were closer to my counter."

"Closer to your counter?"

"Yeah, so I could grab it easily."

He reports his attention to the aisles close to him, where lie the things I couldn't possibly reach from behind my counter. To be honest, I can't reach much from behind my counter, but if he gets the point that it's closer to him than it is to me, that's good. He looks utterly confused and I slightly pity him, but he let me realise that I'd forgotten the colour of my own hair, so I'll make him bathe in his obliviousness some more.

"Come on, Sakura, dark or pale?" I giggle, because it feels great to have power over a policeman (and over the sexiest man in town), even if it's just during a silly game of I Spy. However, his face is just too adorable to keep teasing. I have no idea how he can be intimidating to criminals with that face.

"Alright, it's dark blue. Very dark blue. Almost black," I concede, and some form of realisation dawns on him.

"My hair's black, you know. Not blue."

"I know. I wasn't talking about your hair."

His shoulders slump and he looks around again.

"You were close, though," I say, and I can feel my smirk widen. "_Very_ close."

He knows.

I know he knows.

I can see it on his face.

Right when he opens his mouth to speak, the door of the gas station is swung open. In walks a very short person, obviously under nineteen years old, whiter than Casper the Friendly Ghost and wearing the most ridiculous pimp costume I have ever seen. I try very hard not to laugh as he walks to the counter.

"Pack o' Player's!" He barks. My smirk falls off my face. Awesome. A rude one. And my evening was going so well.

"ID," I answer dryly and extend my hand towards him. It's not today I'm gonna let an obnoxious pimp intimidate me. He looks at it like it's a gigantic insect.

"What!"

"I need to see a valid ID, otherwise you can't have 'em."

"You don't need my ID! I'm twenty-one!" he cries. He then starts cussing at me, calling me names and generally being disrespectful to my gender and race. In the corner of my eye, I can see Sasuke approaching slowly. I ignore him and the little dude's swearing, keeping my calm and trying to finish the scene before someone gets hurt.

"That's all great, sir, but I have to card everyone who looks under forty years old, so hand it over."

"Well, you're giving me the smokes anyway, and for free, too, because of the way you're treating me."

"Uh huh, and I'm Bill Gates." Seriously, who does he think he is? I may be a Visual Arts student working in a gas station, but I'm not an idiot.

"Fine, here's my fucking ID!" He fumbles in his pocket, pulls it out and throws it at me. I calmly pick it up – because seriously, I know it'll only piss him off more and that's what I'm aiming for – and look at it. It's so obviously fake, I can barely contain my laughter.

"Okay, do you have a real ID?" I hand the one I have back to him.

"That one's real, retard!"

"Dude, no it's not. If you're gonna use a fake ID, at least get someone who can actually spell Ontario."

"Fine, I'll just shoot you and take what I want." He reaches into one of his pockets and pretends there's a gun there, while I notice Sasuke's glare directly behind him.

"Right, because a cop totally isn't standing right behind you with his very real gun at the back of your head," I say triumphantly.

Okay, so Sasuke hasn't really pulled out his gun. He's only holding his nightstick like he'd hold a gun, but the pimp doesn't really need to know that. Plus, I'm too busy admiring Sasuke's _extremely_ intimidating face and generally awesome policeman aura.

"It's because I'm black, isn't it?" he spits. I snicker. Sasuke nudges him towards the door.

"Next time, try a gas station that isn't in a residential zone," I yell after him. "They tend to not have cops in them at all times."

Once the door closes behind him, Sasuke turns back to face me. His intimidating face is completely gone and now he just seems confused. His expression is so priceless, I can't hold my laughter in any longer. I laugh so hard that tears start streaming down my face. Sasuke joins me and all that can be heard in the store for the next five minutes are our combined laughter and thigh-slapping. I eventually end up collapsing to the ground and rolling around clutching my sides.

He high-fives me then offers me a ride home. In his _police car_. Is there any cooler way to travel short distance than is the passenger seat of a police car? Except maybe in the driver seat? As Sasuke pulls out of the parking lot, he asks me out on a date. I say yes and giggle like an absolute idiot the whole way home.

This story ends in a police car.

. . .

_**A/N: **__Pff, I tried not to make it cheesy. Sorry, I failed. I'll try better next time. Review?_


End file.
